


Unmerciful

by nickofhearts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breathplay, Collars, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Isolation, Leashes, M/M, Monsters, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickofhearts/pseuds/nickofhearts
Summary: After two thousand years, Ardyn's done playinggameswith the Astrals. He takes Noctis for his own.[Please note the warnings/tags!]





	1. it's the wrong kind of place / to be thinking of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamingcicadas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingcicadas/gifts).



> Please everyone gaze upon this [wondrous gorgeous beauteous heavenly piece of art](https://nsfwlanternbunnies.tumblr.com/image/163078408248) painted by the loveliest [dreamingcicadas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingcicadas/) as companion to this fic!!! ♥ ♥ ♥

**I.**

"You're free to _leave,_ Noctis," Ardyn says, "if you find my hospitality lacking. I do not keep you prisoner."

Noctis tugs at the collar around his throat, knowing it's untrue. 

Ardyn might not stop him from _leaving,_ but he'll murder anyone Noct runs to for help. Noct _had_ run, the first night, dashing through the streets of Insomnia and yelling for guards, but then he'd heard _terrible_ screaming, and the scene that'd met him when he'd stopped and turned around was worse than the most horrific nightmare Noct has ever dreamed.

The guards weren't only _dead,_ but Ardyn was _eating them,_ a slavering beast made of brutal darkness.

Ardyn's _claws_ had crushed a man's skull between them, and Noct felt despair like a yawning abyss opening up before him. How was anyone to fight _that?_

"Please," he'd begged, stumbling closer step by faltering step. " _Please stop,_ " hiccuping sobs. Noct curled his hands in the shadows that were like a mane wreathing Ardyn's terrifying monster face, trembling as he felt tears slide down his own. "Don't hurt them anymore."

"That is _entirely_ up to you, my dear," Ardyn answered him.

His face had been _human_ when he'd drawn Noct in for a kiss, but Noct knew now what lay beneath the façade, the awful roiling darkness that _hungered_ for human flesh, endless and insatiable.

-

"I'm _done_ playing games," Ardyn had said, looking at Noct like a mouse he'd caught between his claws, but then what the fuck were they doing now?

Ardyn hums merrily to himself, chopping carrots for—whatever he's making, looking more complicated than any of the dishes even _Ignis_ had ever prepared, and waves the knife at Noct, making him flinch, but—"pass the celery, Noctis, _good_ boy," chopping it up and adding it to the pot as well.

Noct hovers by Ardyn's side, though the man makes his skin _crawl._ It's not like he has much of a choice; the leash doesn't go that far. 

He gives Ardyn whatever he asks for and fidgets with the cuffs of the shirt that's too long on him. It's not _his_ shirt, Ardyn's ruined all his clothes already. Noct eyes the soup suspiciously, but it smells unexpectedly good, even with all the vegetables. Ardyn holds out a spoonful for him to taste, and Noct reluctantly blows on it before sipping at the broth. He ignores the way Ardyn's gaze sharpens on him.

"It's good," Noct says in startled surprise.

Ardyn sighs like _Noct_ is the monster here. "My _dear_ Noct, instant noodles do not constitute a full meal." He waves the ladle expressively. "Why, it's hardly any better than chewing on a slab of cardboard."

Noct bristles, about to protest, when Ardyn drops a soft kiss on his nose _like that's something they do._

" _What_ the f—" Noct catches himself. He bites his lip and shrinks in on himself, shuffling a few steps away, as far as the leash will let him. Ardyn's moods shift like the wind, and Noct doesn't want to disturb whatever peace has him cooking a lavish dinner instead of—of—Noct's hands curl in the edge of the shirt that hangs too loosely on him, and he meekly accepts the gesture the next time Ardyn swans past, turning into the kiss pressed at the corner of his mouth.

-

Ardyn pours them each a glass of red wine; it looks like _blood,_ and Noct's stomach churns.

"I'm not drinking age yet," he says, pushing it aside. 

"You're not of an age for a great _many_ things," Ardyn remarks, eyes dark and shadowed. Noct's grip on his fork tightens, but Ardyn doesn't follow that statement up with any proof of action. "Do try the bourguignon, Noct. I prepared it _specially_ for you."

-

Noct didn't taste anything off about the bour-whatever, but he's slightly tipsy, giggling as Ardyn leads him into the living room. There's an old record-player the likes of which Noct has never seen except in _textbooks_ crooning out a waltz, because _of course there is._

Noct trips, stumbling on unsteady feet, but Ardyn catches him neatly in his arms. Noct sighs wearily instead of trying to struggle away.

"Perhaps you _are_ young for the wine, Noctis," Ardyn murmurs against his hair.

Noct sways with the music, letting Ardyn move him around the room. It's nice, in a strange way; it might have been what he'd been doing if Ardyn _hadn't,_ whatever this is, with him. Ignis had been making noises about dance lessons for _weeks._

Noct's almost disappointed when it's over. 

"How unexpected," Ardyn's saying, putting the record away as Noct leans against him, nuzzling his face against the fabric of Ardyn's thick coat. It's soft, like a cloud. "I shall teach you the steps when you've more a mind to learn them, hmm?"

He tips Noct's face up for a kiss, and Noct melts into it, though he _should_ hate it. He's so tired, and Ardyn doesn't care, anyways, how Noct feels about him.

-

Noct shivers, though he isn't cold. 

Ardyn touches him as if he's a prized possession, hands moving greedily over every inch of Noct's skin like it _belongs_ to him, it's his right. In some ways, Noct's relieved that Ardyn doesn't think of him as a person. It means maybe one day, Ardyn will set him aside somewhere and forget him. 

-

Noct clenches his hands on the bedsheets, trying not to _like_ it. That's the worst thing of all—that Ardyn makes it feel _good._ Noct curls into himself, thinking of how _awful_ Ardyn is, how he doesn't want this, but Ardyn's long fingers fit perfectly over his hips, dragging him back on each thrust, Ardyn's cock pressing into him _just_ right, and Noct can't help himself.

He moans, then bites down on his tongue, stifling the sound.

" _Poor_ Noct," Ardyn chuckles. He slides two fingers against the back of Noct's neck, pulling the collar tight. "Allow me to provide my assistance." 

Noct gasps, but can't get any air. He writhes, caught between Ardyn's fingers and his cock, too much sensation and nothing to save him from any of it. He pushes at Ardyn's arms, desperately, trying to get away, but it's like trying to fight the waves, drowning him.

The more Noct tries to pull air into his lungs, the more he's made aware of how he _can't._ The collar is so tight around his throat that it's all he _knows._

Ardyn's saying something, but Noct can't hear him over the roaring in his ears. He feels Ardyn's teeth against his ear, Ardyn's fingers around his cock, Ardyn letting go of the collar and breath rushes into him so suddenly that Noct _screams_ without sound, like the world is filling in with colour when all he's known is darkness. 

He comes, or he thinks he does, somewhere amidst the jumble. 

" _Mnrghh_ —" Noct mumbles, finally aware enough of himself again to distinguish the silk bedsheets, sticking to his cheek. He feels achey and sore all over, bruised to the _bone,_ though Ardyn hasn't so much as darkened his skin with a fingerprint.

"There you are, Noctis," Ardyn greets him with a smile. He touches the tips of his fingers to Noct's spine, making him shiver.

Noct is nothing but an empty doll, and Ardyn pulls on his strings.

 

**II.**

Noct whines, struggling, but it's futile. The ropes around his wrists and ankles keep him from moving, and the blindfold keeps him from seeing what's coming next.

" _Please,_ " he wants to beg, though that only ever makes Ardyn worse, and he can't, anyways, through the gag.

The first lash of the whip is the worst, coming down hard on his back. The second and third are no less painful, but at least he's _expecting_ them, shaking in his bonds as he counts the blows silently and waits for them to be over.

It's a long time, and Noct has lost count by the end of it.

His back must be a mess of red welts, blood dripping slowly down the broken skin, but he doesn't even feel it. He doesn't feel _anything_ but a dreamy kind of numbness that makes everything seem far away, out of reach.

Ardyn undoes the ropes holding his limbs immobile, tugging him upright, and Noct _screams._

Everything filters back in multiplied a hundredfold—pain on his back, the skin torn to shreds; pain at his wrists and ankles, rubbed raw and bleeding from his struggles; pain in the rest of his body, from holding the unnatural position.

Noct _claws_ at Ardyn, in desperate agony, but Ardyn only hushes him softly.

" _There,_ now," he murmurs in a sweet tone, and Noct feels the cool relief of a healing spell wash over him, soothing him into boneless laxness.

Ardyn _is_ kind, after all.

That's before he learns that after healing comes _more_ pain.

-

Noct types, 'I'm fine,' on the phone to his friends, over and over like a mantra, even if it's untrue. Ardyn hadn't bothered to take it from him, but why would he? He _wants_ Noct to run screaming to them for help, so he can murder them all in cold blood, and tell Noct it's all his _fault._

'Sorry Prompto, I just needed to get away for awhile.' 'I need some time to myself,' he texts Ignis. 'It's all a bit much, isn't it? The burden of the crown and all that. How's dad these days?' He doesn't know what to say to his father, hadn't even spoken to him for weeks before—everything. So he doesn't. It's his father that writes to him: 'I heard from Ignis that you needed some time away. I understand, son. Let me know when you're ready to come home.'

'Of course,' Noctis replies, and then smashes the phone to pieces. 

He _wants_ to, so badly that it _hurts,_ like a lump in his throat that he's unable to swallow past, but he _can't._ He can't be responsible for all their blood on his hands. 

Noctis huddles in the closet with his arms around his knees, not because he's hiding—there's no point to _that_ —but he'd just...like not to exist for awhile.

-

Ardyn pushes him down on the bed, fucking him in hard thrusts as Noct breathes slowly and waits, tense all over. It hurts, but not as much as it's _going_ to when Ardyn _changes,_ dragging claws down Noct's back and his _cock_ grows ridges that push into him one after each other, each section thicker than the last, going on forever.

Noct shakes just thinking of it, fingers gripping hard on the sheets.

"Are you not _enjoying_ yourself, Noctis?" Ardyn's voice is amused, never a good sign. "Far be it for me to be a mannerless host." He wraps his hand around Noct's cock, stroking him roughly.

It's enough to get Noct hard with the added sensation of Ardyn's still-human cock sliding into him; might even have been _good_ if Noct didn't know what comes next, unfailingly and always.

"Please," Noct begs, tears in his eyes. He tries to twist away, only to end up tugged more fully onto Ardyn's cock, whimpering as it makes him tremble with pleasure. "Please _don't,_ " but that only makes Ardyn laugh. 

"Oh, _Noct,_ " Ardyn murmurs, brushing strands of hair out of Noct's face. "You _are_ a delight."

Ardyn waits until Noct's just about to come, tensing in unfulfilled pleasure, and then the hand on Noct's hip holding him against Ardyn has become a _claw,_ the one still curled over his cock now with sharp edges, and a _tail_ winds itself up to wrap itself lovingly around Noct's neck as Ardyn growls low in his throat, fucking Noct with ruthless abandon.

Noct screams and screams and _screams._

-

He stares into the mirror with dull eyes. There's a scar that cuts down the right side of his face, another going over the bridge of his nose. He remembers being vain about his _looks,_ but that feels like so long ago. He doesn't _want_ Ardyn to find him pretty. 

They're nothing compared to the multitude of scars on his back, anyway. The lines and lines of lashmarks, skin alternately puckered and raised where Ardyn's claws had dug into him, raggedly uneven. But the worst one of all is the place where Ardyn had _bitten_ into him, a wound hot to the touch even now, pulsing darkness that strains against the surface of his skin.

Noct closes his eyes, leaning against the mirror. He's too tired to even _cry._

-

He's so shocked when someone _other than Ardyn_ comes through the door that he doesn't even react. It's not until Cor's tugging him gently off the bed, making Noct stumble as he gets him to his feet, that Noct realizes this isn't just a dream.

"Your _highness,_ " Cor is saying, pulling one of Ardyn's spare shirts over his shoulders—

"You have to _leave,_ " Noct tells him in a panic, shoving Cor's hands away. His voice is rough and raspy with misuse, and Noct flinches at the look on Cor's face, but that doesn't stop him trying to push Cor out the door.

"You have to _go,_ Cor, _please._ " He's almost in tears with the thought of Ardyn _finding them here._

" _Shit,_ " a new voice asks, stepping into the room. "It wasn't a false alarm this time? Has the kid been in Insomnia from the _beginning?_ "

Noct's shaking, unable to control himself. There's _too many people,_ and more of them come through the door, dressed in the familiar Kingsglaive uniform that makes Noct's heart ache with longing. They're checking the perimeter, securing the defenses, but he knows it won't do _anything_ against Ardyn.

He sags against Cor, feeling hopelessness wash over him.

That's when Ardyn _himself_ is suddenly standing in the doorway, so quiet and unassuming that not even the Kingsglaive have noticed him yet. It's like a moment frozen in time, bustling noise around him and Ardyn calmly observing from the doorway, but then—"Hey!" someone calls out, and everyone is abruptly up in arms, all angled at Ardyn.

Ardyn merely smiles, cold with unconcern. " _Noct,_ " he orders, holding his hands out. 

This is his one and only chance, Noct knows. He tears himself away from Cor, running to Ardyn like there's nowhere he'd rather be. He clutches Ardyn's hands and clings to the fabric of his coat, trembling. "Please don't hurt them, pleaseplease _please_."

Ardyn runs deceptively gently fingers through his hair. "I _do_ so love it when you _beg,_ Noct," which is a lie, a _filthy_ lie—

He hears more weapons drawn all around them, Kingsglaive kukri and Crownsguard swords, but it's not _enough;_ Noct has seen Ardyn slice through metal like it's paper, no effort at all. He huddles against Ardyn, terrified _for_ them.

"Your _highness,_ " someone calls out. "Step aside."

Noct _can't,_ he's all that stands between them and certain death, depending entirely on Ardyn's whim and fancy. " _Please,_ " Noct tries again, shivering with so much fear.

Ardyn tugs him up on his tiptoes, murmuring into his mouth.

Noctis can't make out the words but he sinks into it, whining low in his throat. Ardyn tastes _good,_ a random thought amidst the sea of spiraling panic, and Noct clings onto it as he clings to Ardyn's coat, _praying_ that Ardyn's in a good mood, amused enough that no one has to die.

-

A memory floats to the surface: Ardyn holding his hands tenderly, stroking over Noct's fingers. He plays with one, teasing at the sensitive underside with a nail, and then he closes his hand around it and— _snap._

Before Noct can even scream, he's moved onto the next, and the next.

When he's done, Ardyn whispers a spell of healing over them, laughing at the tears trailing hotly down Noct's cheeks. He brushes them away, and then he begins _anew._

-

The next part is a haze of people screaming, weapons blurring by. Noct feels one graze his cheek, painful and irritating, and he _growls,_ baring his teeth—

Noct's pretty blue eyes slide suddenly into _gold,_ the scelera around it dark as ink, spilling over the rest of his face. He's so _hungry,_ and before him lies a feast. His hands twist into claws, sharper than knives; his _tail_ uncurls, snapping up to slice someone's throat open, smash into another's ribs, crushing them. 

Ardyn is laughing, and it's a lovely sound, backdrop to the screaming mewling humans and Noct crunching their bones between his teeth, lapping up the rich red blood.

He crouches down on all fours, nosing at one that's still breathing in wet gasps, the rest of its companions dead or fleeing; Noct had watched them stagger down the street in jerky flashes, wondering if he should _chase,_ but Ardyn had shaken his head— _let them go._

"Noc...tis," the man gasps out, reaching out to drag bloody fingertips down his cheek, but Noct pays it no mind. He's only interested in digging his claws in and _eating._

That _is_ his name, but _he_ answers only to Ardyn.

-

Noct wakes up to Ardyn wiping a wet towel over his face. It's drenched in _red._ His hands clench on the bedsheets and he doesn't ask. Not remembering is better than knowing how many people Ardyn's killed because of him. It's not his _fault,_ Noct tries to believe; Ardyn _enjoys_ killing, but Ardyn hasn't broken his promise yet. 

He hasn't killed anyone that didn't come looking for Noct.

 

**III.**

It _hurts,_ more than anything Noct has ever felt before—or ever will again—Noct _would_ say, if he didn't know Ardyn well enough by now to know that he'll have some new way to hurt Noctis worse tomorrow. It's like a burning under his skin, crawling _into_ him. He throws up darkness, but there's _more,_ always more.

Noct screams until his throat is raw with it, tearing at his skin as if he can get it _out_ of him, but it's no use.

-

When he wakes up again, he's _hungry,_ starving like he hasn't eaten for a week. Has he been asleep that long? It's an insignificant concern when Noctis smells _food,_ delicious and tantalizing, perhaps only a room away.

He follows the scent of it, pushing the door open to the sound of soft wet sobs. He remembers with a sneer when _he'd_ made sounds like that.

Noct tears _into_ the food, the flesh soft and giving against his teeth. 

He eats and eats and _eats,_ and it's not until he's done, licking the bones clean, that Noct realizes what it is, exactly, he's been eating.

He looks at his hands, red with blood, tastes it in his mouth and every crevasse of his teeth. He wants to throw up, but he's still so full, satiated and content, rumbling a purr as he _wants_ to gnaw the last remaining shreds of gristle from the bones and he has to _stop_ himself, remembering— _it's wrong to eat people._

-

Ardyn laughs, dragging Noct to him with the leash attached to the collar locked around his throat. "How was it, _Noctis?_ I hear the first meal of flesh is like none other—a taste you shall never forget, nor shall you desire to consume anything besides." 

Noct _growls_ at him, and then he remembers _people_ don't growl, snapping his mouth closed so abruptly he bites his tongue.

Ardyn's thumb brushes gently over his lip where the blood's smeared—a _mockery_ —there is no kindness in Ardyn at all. Noct snaps his teeth at Ardyn's fingers, but Ardyn grabs his jaw instead, forcing Noct's teeth apart for Ardyn to drag fingers over his tongue.

"I have lived in darkness for _ages,_ " Ardyn tells him, smiling. "You haven't even _begun._ "

He yanks Noctis up by the hair, pulling him into Ardyn's lap so Ardyn can set _his_ teeth against Noct's throat, making the daemon inside him rumble with pleasure while Noct bites his lip against it, _refusing_ to surrender himself.

-

Noct stalks the halls of Ardyn's residence, keeping close to the ground. He thinks they're still in Lucis; the air is warm with the spring weather, but he can't be certain where. He doesn't doubt, either, Ardyn's promise to murder anyone Noct seeks for assistance.

He shudders, thinking of the guards lying bloody and broken in the Citadel, one of them reaching out for Noctis, telling him—" _run._ "

Noctis had stood frozen.

"Well?" Ardyn has asked. "Will you _run,_ Noctis?"

Even then, Noct had already known it was futile. He'd closed his eyes on a whimper as Ardyn reached a _claw_ out, drawing bloody lines down his cheek. His breath caught in his throat as Ardyn had licked it away.

The memory now brings him _hunger._

-

Noct whines, simultaneously trying to curl closer and struggling to get away from Ardyn. It wouldn't be so terrible if it didn't feel so _good,_ like all he wants is for Ardyn to sink his cock into him, claw bloody grooves into his back, marking him Ardyn's _possession._

-

He's _so_ hungry, but he can't—he _won't._

Ardyn holds out bloody fingertips to him, teasing, but Noctis turns his head away. Just because they're already dead doesn't mean it's okay for Noct to eat them. 

They're still _human,_ and so is Noctis.

_He's not a monster._

 

**IV.**

He's so _hungry_ he can't think of anything else. 

The bleeding lines on his arms this time are from his own hands, clawing at the skin. He wants to _eat,_ but he knows he shouldn't. Noct sinks his teeth into the flesh of his thigh, groaning at the taste of it. He bites into his arms, over and over again, but it doesn't help.

It's not what he _needs._

-

He can hear screaming from the next room over, the delicate sound of a heart beating too fast in fear. He can have what he _wants,_ if he just gets up and opens the door.

 _No,_ Noct thinks. _No._

He's not a monster like Ardyn, he won't _be_ one. 

People aren't _food,_ no matter how good they smell, almost like he can taste the blood he hears dripping slowly to the floor. 

Noct opens his mouth on a gasp, trying to throw up, but he can't. The darkness is a part of him now, in his flesh and bones. The edges of the wounds on his arms and legs are black, the veins around them _also_ black, ugly and horrific. 

It's in his _blood,_ and he can't get it out.

Noct doesn't look at his hands, because he's afraid he'll see claws. He doesn't look at his face.

-

Noct tucks his knees to his chin, breathing slowly. He can control this, he can choose not to eat. He counts the seconds, not thinking of the live prey in the room next door. He's _stronger_ than the monster that wants to wear his skin.

-

Noct's claws mark deep lines on the bathroom floor, cracking the tile. He's not supposed to eat, but he can't remember why. 

There was a reason for it, some part of him still screaming that it's better to starve to death than take what's just _waiting_ for him on the other side of the door. He can smell the blood like it's right in front of him; knows it'll be the best thing he's ever tasted in his _life,_ after waiting so long.

It's because...people are...good?

People are...vicious and horrible; Noct remembers the cut of a blade on his cheek, the stupid mewling things screaming as they fall before him, screaming his _name,_ like they know him.

People are _food._

Noct gets up, and he rips open the door.

 

**V.**

"You _are_ a pretty thing," Ardyn coos at him. He holds out a hand, and Noct nuzzles his face into it, smelling the blood on Ardyn's fingers. It's a good smell, rich and appetizing, even when Noct isn't very hungry. "I have to say, Noctis," Ardyn's voice rumbles, deep with tones Noct's _human_ ears had never picked up. "You've surprised even _me._ "

Ardyn scritches under his chin, where the plates of armour intersect, protecting him where he's most vulnerable.

Noct purrs, tilting his head in a question. He likes the way Ardyn pets him, the way Ardyn says his name, the way the darkness seething under Ardyn's skin _calls_ to him, because they're of a kind. Noct leans into the caresses, wholly content. 

-

Noct had staggered into the room _snarling,_ his teeth misshapen in his mouth, a mess of hunger and beastly instincts. He hadn't thought of anything but _eating,_ closing his jaw on the flesh of the whimpering little human, awkward as it was with the way his teeth were still half-human, jagged monster edges catching on bone and sinew.

When he was done, blood smeared all over his face, Noct tore at his human skin, revealing the daemon's plated armour beneath.

It _itched,_ and Noct turned his back to Ardyn, whining at him for help.

"Oh, _my,_ " Ardyn had murmured, though he'd stepped close quickly enough, reaching out to pull the rest of the skin off, the human bits and pieces that Noct had use for no longer. He stroked long fingers over the quills of Noct's spine, making them shiver with pleasure.

Noct stretched out to let Ardyn pet him, yowling when it seemed the transformation wasn't yet complete.

His claws dug deep grooves into the ground as hot pain flared down his back, and Noct _roared_ his displeasure. He couldn't _reach,_ but Ardyn's clever fingers found where Noct's _wings_ wanted to break through, a mess of wet membranous tissue. 

Ardyn carefully tugged them straight, arranging them neatly to dry while Noct panted with exertion, curled up in Ardyn's lap.

His tail waved in the air, curling and uncurling as Noct familiarized himself with the feeling of having another limb—one more tactile and prehensile than even his fingers and toes. He dragged it over Ardyn's arm, curious, and Ardyn laughed indulgently instead of protesting the thin fabric of his shirt being sliced cleanly open. Noct rubbed the flat edge of his segmented tail against Ardyn's skin, chirping an apology.

"And to think," Ardyn told him with an covetous smile, running his knuckles down Noct's spines again. "I'd thought you were going to be _pathetic_."

-

They go hunting, and Noct is so much quicker on his feet like this than he was _before,_ taking to the air when prowling on land becomes tiresome. It's almost _pitiful_ the way the humans don't even bother to look up, smashed to the ground by the force of Noct landing on them, tearing strips off hungrily with his teeth.

" _Very_ good," Ardyn commends him, and Noctis preens, fluttering his wings out as he pushes his nose against Ardyn's fingers, begging for scritches.

He winds himself around Ardyn's legs, rubbing his scent all over Ardyn's clothes before he slinks away again, stalking down his next prey. The shadows are his friends, and Noct moves through them more swiftly than he ever had _warping_ from place to place. He has no need for _swords_ now, when his teeth and claws are sharper and stronger than any metal alloy made by _men._

-

"I have a most _particular_ hunt for you," Ardyn tells him one day while Noct is curled up gnawing on a thigh bone, grinding his teeth against it.

Noct perks up curiously, nosing against Ardyn's fingers when they're offered to him.

"You've hunted them before, Noctis, do you remember?" Ardyn takes out a scrap of fabric and holds it out to him—Noct growling immediately in response, hackles rising. 

Those were the prey he'd let _go._

Ardyn pets his horns comfortingly, scritching at the very base of them _so_ nicely. Noct is a puddle of contentedness, purring as Ardyn explains. "It wasn't time, Noctis." His smile widens suddenly, showing off his own teeth. "It is _now._ "

Noct gets to his feet, stretching his muscles out as he readies himself. He makes a questioning noise at Ardyn.

"It's the anniversary of your _'disappearance',_ Noctis. They're all gathered in the central square for a speech from your _father._ " 

Noct hears the words, but they lack the kind of meaning they had before. He's only interested in the gluttony of a _meal_ Ardyn is proposing, if all the humans are bunched together stupidly in some small area. 

Ardyn laughs when Noct nips him on the fingers in excitement.

In answer, he tips his hat in a sweeping gesture. "Why don't you go and—" Ardyn grins, letting the darkness that writhes under his skin seep through, painting his face a sinister shade—" _accept their welcome?_ "

Noct purrs, his whole body shaking with anticipation for the hunt. Ardyn's been corralling him inside for the last few days, and now he knows why. 

He's been making sure Noct's _hungry,_ for the feast.

-

Noct cackles wildly, _howling_ as he surges from the shadows.

The prey scatters, but end up trampling each other in their mad rush to flee from the wide sweeps of his claws, tearing them open. Pathetic little _mice._ Noct plucks one up from the ground, a cub by the size of it, and he bites into its throat, tasting the sweet hot blood that gushes forth.

He slips back into the shadows when one of the _fighters_ —the warriors of the pack—comes running at him.

 _Itsy bitsy mousies,_ Noct sings to himself, and then he breathes out _fire,_ black with corruption, watching the mousie's skin crackle and burn, turning to ash. He laughs, gutteral and horrid, his voice echoing _darkness._ Noct cuts them down with claws and teeth and tail, and yet there are still more, and endless amount of prey that comes forward to offer itself for his consumption. 

Noct gleefully _accepts._

-

" _Noctis!_ " someone calls, voice ringing out loudly even admist all the screaming terrror of the prey. It sounds familiar, a wisp of a memory tugging at his thoughts, but Noct pushes it back. _Memories_ don't feed his _hunger._

He dodges around the warriors that are circling, circling, trying to trap him.

Their blades strike against his armour with a grating sound, but they're only _metal._ Noct crushes them with his claws.

" _Noctis,_ " they keep shouting at him, and it makes him _angry._

They're nothing but _prey,_ who are they to call his name? He snarls, sinking his teeth deep into the throat of the nearest one, tearing it out as he moves back, licking blood off his face. That's all they're good for—to _feed_ him.

"Noctis, _my son,_ " the man from before says, and then swords made of _light_ surround him. 

Noct dodges back, but they move with him, caging him in a cirlce of light that _burns_ him. Noct screams, falling to his knees. The light _hurts,_ blistering his wings. The armour on his right arm _cracks,_ revealing soft human skin beneath. He's _not_ human, not like the pathetic little mousies.

Noct _growls,_ slashing at the light. His claws break, but that doesn't stop him. He claws at it with his _hands,_ screaming out his rage.

He gets to his feet, coughing black blood. He grasps the swords of light in his hands, even though it burns him, and he wrenches them apart. With the remainder of his strength, he staggers foward, snarling. He's so _close_ to ripping out the throat of the one that calls itself his _father,_ but one of the other _annoyances_ lands on his back while he's distracted, sending him crashing to the floor. 

Noct coughs wetly, but he has no reserves left. He slips into darkness, and the very last thought on his mind is— _Ardyn._


	2. leave me out with the waste / this is not what i do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **me** : what should i wriiiite  
>  **dreamingcicadas** : some h/c!  
>  **me** : okay!!! *some time later* ...wait what's the 'c' stand for?

**I.**

You wake up, and there are bars instead of doors or windows, inscribed with wards that burn you at a touch. You hiss, curling back into the shadows.

-

The humans come by to _gawk_ at you, as if they've never seen a daemon before. You growl at them in turn, showing them your teeth. You've murdered a countless amount of their number, and you can't _wait_ for them to be your next meal.

You scrape your claws over the bars, making them spark and flame. The metal holds, for now.

They think you don't remember, but you _do._ You remember what it was like to be human and _weak,_ how Ardyn used to slice bleeding lines into your back, the flesh of your thighs, over your arms, while you screamed.

You remember being human _hurts._

" _Noctis,_ " the man that comes by every day—the one who'd weilded the swords of _light_ —says, pleading with you.

You have _other_ memories of him, floating through your mind like faded photographs. Here, sitting with him at dinner, your legs so short they dangle in the air. The soup is green as grass, and tastes just as appetizing. Here, the man exiting a car whose shape is as distinctive as the silver adornment in his hair. He'd _meant_ something to your other self, but those feelings are out of your reach.

You _snarl,_ baring long sharp teeth at him.

-

You're hungry, but the food they bring you isn't fit for _eating._ It tastes of fire and other impurities that obscure the meat. It's not _fresh,_ and you throw it up in great hacking coughs that bear the evidence of previous meals—undigested bones and bits of hair that'd gotten twisted together.

"You're my _son,_ " the man says to you, his voice thick with emotion.

You know better than anyone that things don't become true just because you _say_ them. Hadn't you begged Ardyn for mercy, day upon day?

-

Your visitor the next night is a younger man wearing the uniform of the human's fighters, the ones who'd tried to stop you in the square. Your bloodlust rises at the sight of it, itching to sink your claws in, tear the flesh from his bones.

"Remember _me,_ Noctis?"

He undoes the buttons at his neck and shows you the ugly scar against his throat—a scar made by _your_ claws.

"You told me to _leave,_ " he says, mouth twisting. His scent turns acrid and bitter. Regret, or guilt? " _I_ remember how scared you were," he goes on, ignoring the low growl that starts in your throat. You don't _like_ those memories. "Cor—the only other survivor of that debacle—thinks it was all an act, that Ardyn had already broken you, but I don't." He fits his hand through the bars, holding it out to you. "I think you really _did_ want us to leave, _Noctis._ "

You sniff at his fingers, the rich blood scent just beneath his skin, and you snap your teeth, a moment too slow as he snatches his hand back, so quickly that he overbalances and falls.

" _Mousie,_ " you snarl at him.

He looks surprised, and then he starts laughing, though his scent hasn't changed from that bitter guilty tone. "The name's _Nyx,_ actually."

He stands, brushing off his uniform. Before he leaves, he gives you one last look, filled with compassion. "I believe in you, kiddo. I think you're stronger than any of them give you credit for. I've got more rounds than hours in the day, but I'll come see you when I can." He throws a wave over his shoulder.

Your only answer is a rumbling growl, but it doesn't seem to bother him.

-

You dream, sometimes, of Ardyn. They're not always _good_ dreams, but then, Ardyn hadn't always been kind.

He hadn't loved you until you'd shed your human skin like the useless shell it was, peeling it away to reveal the monster waiting beneath. He'd called you _beautiful,_ then, touched you with such care as he'd never shown before. He traced his fingers over every segment of your fragile new wings, tender as the sweetest lover while he unraveled them to dry.

How could you want to ever be human again?

-

"I'm _sorry,_ Noctis," the man who calls himself your father says. He comes every day to talk to you, though you never offer a response. "It's my fault, I couldn't protect you from that _monster._ "

You remain silent and unmoving in the furthest corner of the cell, away from his _light._

Today, he pushes a small box through the bars. "They're from your old apartment. I thought you might like them."

He waits, but you don't move to look. You have no interest in _human_ things.

"Please, Noctis," he begs of you. "Just...try?" His hands shake where he grips the bars, the inscriptions beneath his fingers glowing softly with his magic.

You hiss and curl futher back, pulling your wings around yourself. They ache in memory of how that magic had _burned_ them, though they've healed since.

You wait until he leaves, and then your tail whips out to tug the box to you. It's not _interest,_ it's that you have nothing else to _do,_ locked up in this cage. You have no doubt that you'll get out one day—whether because the human magics will finally break, or because you'll have saved up enough strength to _make_ it break, but until then, you sift a claw through the strange items, not quite remembering what they're for.

At the very bottom of the box, is a small wood carving.

" _Carby,_ " you whisper, and the memory that comes this time is so bright with colour you can almost _feel_ the wind on your face.

-

It's a dream and it's not a dream in that particular way that happens when _Carbuncle_ visits you. You land in a verdant landscape, a lake on one side and a forest on the other, and you're ten years old again, chasing a fluffy little fox creature that keeps _just_ ahead of you, chirping merrily as you scramble to keep up.

You finally make a flying leap and catch it in your arms.

"Where were you, then?" you ask it.

Its words appear on the cell phone you pull out of a pocket. _I couldn't reach you, Noct. I'm sorry._ It nuzzles its soft nose against your face.

"Do I have to wake up?" you ask, cuddling Carbuncle closer to your chest. "It's so nice here."

 _Your dad misses you,_ comes the message.

"I make him sad," you tell the small furry creature that Regis had promised would watch over you, _protect_ you when he couldn't. Neither of them had kept their promises. "I make them _all_ sad, I can smell it." The sky grows dark with thunderclouds, and then rain washes down in a drenching torrent.

It's still nicer than being awake, and you clutch Carbuncle as tight as you can, trying to stay.

-

When you wake again, it's to Regis watching over you as he reads aloud from a children's storybook. You recognize the cover as one of the ones in the playroom in your dreams, where Carbuncle had been the giant-sized monster that'd chased you around while you'd been a toy car.

"...dad?"

Regis stops immediately, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you. "Noct—?"

He's pressed right up against the bars and looks like he wants to embrace you, but that would be unwise, and both of you know it.

You uncurl your claw, and in the center of your palm is the small wooden carving of Carbuncle.

"Is that—" Regis asks.

"It's _mine,_ " you hiss, backing up again. The dream's faded from your memory, though there's still the sense of familiarity, the certain longing you have to be close to this man.

You stare at him intently, and he watches you back, so much hope in his eyes.

 

**II.**

The next day your _father_ doesn't come alone. He's got a whole group of the uniformed fighters with him. "I'm sorry, Noctis," he says, and then he casts the light that _burns_ you, making you scream. You claw at it against your skin, though it cracks your claws; you hiss and you bite at any that dare come near.

They drag you to a bright _shining_ thing, brighter even than your father's magic. The light of it sears you to the bone, shattering your armour to dust.

You're screaming, a great howling sound that cracks the panes of glass in the room.

For awhile, there is nothing but pain and blinding whiteness, and then you hear Ardyn's voice, as if it's very far away.

"Don't _die,_ Noct. That would _be_ so very boring."

You snap awake with a gasp.

"I'm sorry, Noctis? I'm _sorry,_ but it was the only way," a gentle voice pleads for your clemency.

You're being held in someone's arms, and you feel so weak. You can't even lift your head. You drag in a shaky breath, then another; when you cough, blood splatters on the floor.

It's _red,_ like it hasn't been for a long long time.

You hold your hand up and stare at it in fear. Your skin is soft and pink and _human,_ and you close your eyes again, waiting to be hurt.

-

You dream of Carbuncle again, except the lake has become _lava,_ molten and bubbling with terrible promise. You stand on the shore, but it cracks the ground beneath your feet. You're _screaming._

"I'm not _human—_ "

It lets you catch it this time, a silvery puffball in the grip of your claws. It chirps at you, touching its cold wet nose to your cheek, where the skin is rough and black-veined with _corruption._

You bury your face against its soft fur. You're crying. "I'm not, I'm _not—_ "

 _You can be whatever you want to be,_ come the words on the screen.

You fumble the phone out of your claws, and it melts into the lava with a hiss. You set Carbuncle on the ground, and stare into the lava's roiling depths. You remember Ardyn kissing the bloody lines he'd scored into your skin, how you'd thought nothing would ever hurt more.

You were wrong, of course; you'd been so very naive.

You _jump—_

-

You wake up. The fever from before has broken, and your hands—human and _fragile_ they may be—no longer shake. Someone is laying a cool wet towel on your forehead, keeping your vigil, and you look up to meet the eyes of your father, the king.

Your reflection within them is that of a human _boy,_ useless and weak. You have no claws and no armour to defend yourself.

"Noctis?"

You draw back, curling into the blankets. They're scant protection, but at least they hide your humanness from sight.

His hand reaches for the collar at your throat, and you hiss, though the sound comes out strangely with your vocal chords now. There's no sibilant echo, no undertone of _threat._ It's a pathetic little mewl.

"You wouldn't let us take that off, even when—" Regis' expression is pained. "You're _free_ of him, Noctis."

You shift further back, as far as you can, pressed against the wall. You hold your hand against the collar, covering it protectively. Ardyn had given you a choice: you can wear the collar, or you can _not._ One comes with pain, and the other comes with _unbearable_ pain. You'd let him put it on you, buckling it closed against your skin so you felt it every time you swallowed. It wasn't too tight, not until he was fucking you, sliding his fingers beneath the leather. The sound of your screaming was cut off into silence.

"Not... _allowed,_ " you snarl. You're already human, you won't suffer any more punishment than you have to.

Regis' expression is something you can't decipher, too many emotions mixed into it, and you can't even _smell_ what he's feeling now.

-

Nyx comes a few days later to gawk at you like you're some wild animal that's been taught to do tricks. You might have been allowed out of the cage, but you're no less trapped. " _Shit,_ kid, you look—different."

You might look different, but you feel the same.

You can't hear his heart beating, or smell the blood under his skin, but you know it's there, and you know its _taste._

You're hungry, but your stomach churns.

"Go...away..." you tell him. Your hands clench on the bedsheets. You want to eat, but you _can't._ Your teeth are no longer the right shape, your body no longer fit to ingest the kinds of things you want to put into it. Having the meal before you when you can't _partake_ is a special kind of torture.

Unlike the last time you'd asked him to leave you somewhere, he goes.

The door swings shut again, and you close your eyes, letting the tension melt out of your bones. Sleep is the only escape you have.

-

"Have you _missed_ me, Noctis?"

Ardyn drags you up against him, though you try to twist away. Fighting him is allowed, as long as you don't leave the premises. You don't know where he goes during the days, and you don't _care._

"No, let _go—_ "

He does, and you fall to the floor in a crumpled heap, overbalanced by your struggling. You don't get up. You don't want whatever's about to happen next.

He smiles, stepping around you like you're nothing but an upturned lamp, something beneath his notice. That's better than having his attention, and you curl up tighter, like you can just disappear if you try hard enough.

He's humming a familiar tune as he restocks the fridge, sets a few boxes on the counter. You don't want to know what's in them, but you'll probably find out.

He grabs the leash off the hook in the front hall and makes himself comfortable on the couch. "Come here, Noct." He pats his leg, and you reluctantly go to him. Disobeying a direct order comes with consequences, and your fingers still ache from the _last_ time, though the bones have healed. He clips the lead to your collar and settles you in his lap, stroking over your spine as if to soothe you. It's nice, deceptively so. You relax into it despite yourself.

He flicks the television on and you go stiff as a board when your _father_ steps into view. He's talking about your disappearance, offering a reward to anyone who can provide any information.

You don't mean to start crying, but then you can't stop, your whole body wracked with sobs that won't leave you no matter how you try. Trying to stop only makes it worse, like boarding up the windows to stop the flood, only then the whole house gets washed away.

" _Poor_ Noct," Ardyn says into your ear, yanking you up cruelly by the hair. "Do you miss them? You _can_ go home, you know."

You shake your head. You won't, you _won't._

Ardyn laughs. He shoves you down on the table, dragging the oversized shirt off your shoulders, then the boxers that barely hang on your hips. You squirm at his fingers pushing into you, but that's only small discomfort compared to what you know comes next. You're still crying, but then you're usually crying by this point anyways.

It wouldn't be so bad if Ardyn only wanted to fuck you, even with the monster breathing underneath his skin. You think you'd get numb to it eventually.

But Ardyn's always got some _new_ way to hurt you, some pain you'd never considered before. It's a horrible guessing game of what awful torture the next day will bring.

You close your eyes and wish you could be anywhere else. If you ever believed in the Astrals, you don't now. Weren't you supposed to be the _chosen_ one? You wish you were _dead,_ but you know Ardyn will never be that merciful. You wait for it to be over, the only thing you _can_ do. It always takes longer than you think it will, the pain worse than anything you ever knew you could live through. You used to try not to scream, but then you realized it makes no difference to Ardyn. He just wants to see you hurt. You can't run away, you can't disappear.

You beg him to stop, though it does nothing.

-

"I never stopped looking, never stopped _hoping,_ " Regis tells you. He's so happy to have you _'home'_ again, like all the pieces will fit back together if only he gives it time, gives _you_ time. You don't have the heart to tell him it never will, that whole _portions_ are missing—you don't have a _heart_ anymore. Had it been a dream, or did Ardyn really cut it out of your chest and swallow it down piece by piece, each bite of his teeth a new agony? It'd _felt_ real, and that's the same thing.

What has hope ever gotten anyone? Only more _pain._

 

**III.**

Your next visitor is a fluffy-haired blond boy that wrings nervously at the edge of his t-shirt with his hands as he comes towards you. You're slowly relearning how to tell emotions again, what meaning each frivolous action the humans like to make has. There's a blocky object hanging what must be uncomfortably from his neck, bumping against his chest—a camera, memory tells you, though it doesn't tell you what it's for.

"N-Noct? Do you remember me? Your dad said you probably wouldn't, so um, I brought some—" 

You make a low growling sound that is almost _almost_ like the kind of sounds you used to make with a _proper_ throat.

He stumbles back, falling all over himself, and lands with a hard thud on the floor. You laugh at the sight, not because it's funny, but because he _should_ fear you. The humans may have taken your claws, but you're still a _monster._

" _Prompto,_ " the memory comes to you. 

He looks up at you, startled, but he's smiling. His smiles had been like sunshine, you remember, warm between your ribs—they'd made you _happy,_ and you growl louder, until he runs out the door. 

You don't need _happiness._

You need Ardyn.

-

He doesn't come again, but Regis brings the— _camera_ —with him when he comes to see you. 

He sits by your side, though you growl at him.

" _Noct,_ " he says, stern. 

You turn your back to him, clenching your fists in the sheets. If you had claws, you could _make_ them go away; you could rend the flesh from their bones and fill the gnawing ache in your chest that hollows you out like a glass waiting to be shattered.

He sighs, though he doesn't push the matter.

"Look through the photos, Noctis, please." He touches you on the shoulder, pulling back quickly when it only makes you flinch. "Prompto used to be your best friend," he says before he leaves, like that should mean anything to you. 

You turn the camera over in your hands after he's gone, poking at the buttons on it disinterestedly. 

You almost drop it on the floor when the flat side suddenly flickers bright with— _pictures?_ You push at the buttons, and they change, screen after screen of the blond boy and someone else, dark-haired and brooding, looking like they're trying to escape the frame half the time and making stupid faces at it the other half.

It takes you a long time to realize—the other boy is _you._

It takes you longer to realize the wetness on your face is because you're crying.

-

You're dreaming again, though it's not the usual Carbuncle dream. You know you're dreaming because you feel settled in your skin, not like it's stretched too tightly over something it shouldn't be able to contain. You're wandering through long hallways, but all the rooms are empty. 

"What am I looking for?" you ask Carbuncle, following at your heels.

 _Something you've lost,_ Carbuncle answers.

You continue down the corridor with a huff. That's unhelpful—you've lost so much that you no long have the ability to measure all the things you're missing. You know you're dreaming because you're aware enough to think such thoughts.

The next room you come to isn't empty. It's a _memory._

You're in a classroom chatting with that boy— _Prompto,_ and you're both laughing. He makes wild gestures in the air that look nonsensical to you now, but it must have meant something to you _then,_ because you laugh harder, until you're holding your stomach like you can't breathe.

Your hand is clenched on the doorway, and it's not a claw.

" _What am I missing,_ " you snarl at Carbuncle. You feel it hovering at the very edge of your consciousness, something just out of your grasp.

The phone chimes in your pocket and you pull it out with your other hand. You're shaking, and you can't make yourself stop. You hold it up to your face, but your eyes are still squeezed shut. You're _afraid,_ because once you know, you won't be able to take it back. You're standing at the edge of a deep dark abyss, and one wrong move will send you tumbling into the depths. You force yourself to look.

_Friendship._

You snap awake with a gasp.

-

You wait until the next time the uniformed humans that'd smelled of blood and death—just because you can no longer smell it doesn't mean it's not _there_ —brings you food, like you're some _pet_ to be kept, and you rush them, running out the door. They're yelling your name, but that has no meaning to you. 

You're running barefoot through the hallways, dashing through throngs of people and making them scatter. It's freeing, like something you used to do or _thought_ of doing.

You can't fade into the shadows anymore, but these halls are familiar to you, and you know with a strange kind of instinct where all the best hiding places are. You hold your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh while the little mice scurry past, steel in their hands as they search for you. 

You creep up quietly on one that's looking in the other direction, and you send him crashing to the floor as you drop down on him from where you'd been perched in the rafters.

The uniform fits loosely on you, but it's enough to hide all your most remarkable features: the bare skin of your _human_ arms and legs, marked by scars. Your _face,_ once you tug the hood down, most especially your eyes, which are still the gold and black of your _true_ self, sleeping under the sheep's skin.

You mimic the gait of the _other_ humans, moving with purpose through the halls, searching for _you._

-

The city streets are less familiar than the hallways of the—Citadel? _home,_ a small voice wants to say, but you push it aside. Home is Ardyn and slow drugging kisses that'd tasted of blood and darkness, the woodsmoke smell of Ardyn's skin and the darkness brimming beneath. Your steps move you forward as if you know where you're going, though it's not a conscious thought.

-

You push through the doors of the—apartment building? This is how mousies outside of the Citadel live, you remember. In little cubbyholes stacked one on top of each other. You're looking for a _specific_ little mousie's home, and the indistinct memory of wandering long hallways looking through room after room flits momentarily through your mind.

You rap on the door like you're acting out the part in a play. 

It swings open to the blond mousie from before with a piece of bread hanging out of its mouth, attention still half-on a screen that flashes with noise and pictures inside. "Yeah? What's—" the bread drops from between its teeth at the sight of you, frozen like it can't quite decide whether it should be running for its life.

"Pro...mpto." 

You push your fingertips at his chest, where the camera had been hanging. "Pictures."

He nods, slowly and then more quickly as he steps back to let you into his home, stupid little mousie. You could make a _meal_ of him, and no one would know. Lucky for him, you haven't been able to keep any meat down since the burning light had stripped you of your daemon skin. "Did—did you look through the pictures, Noct? Do you remember me?" His face is shining with a smile again, and it frustrates you.

" _No,_ " you growl, shoving past him. 

You drop into a crouch, moving slowly through the room. You remember things like faded photographs flashing by—sitting on the couch with something in your hands, yelling and pushing at each other, though it'd been _fun,_ the same thrill as you get now stalking after one of their number, crunching through bone with your teeth, the reward of a good hunt.

"You want to—play a videogame?" Prompto asks hesitantly. 

He's standing to one side, watching you nose at the couch cushions, though not far enough to escape your reach if you decided you wanted a meal after all.

"Video...game," you test out the shapes of the words in your mouth.

There's something tugging at you, something—Carbuncle had called it _friendship,_ but that lacks any sort of meaning. You feel it like an itch in your fingers, anxiousness drawing your skin tight against your bones. You drag Prompto down on the couch with you, his limbs flailing and his heart beating too-quickly where your hand is pressed against his chest.

"N-noct?"

You remember closeness, a _want—_

You press your mouth to his, tasting the soft skin. You'd wanted this, once upon a time. You push him away again when he gasps, trying to taste you in return, and send him sprawling on the floor. 

You tug the hood over your face again, scrunch yourself up on the couch.

Your fingers flex open and closed, but you don't have claws. You don't have your wings, or your armour, or your teeth. You don't have _anything._ You ignore him calling your name. You just want to _sleep._

-

"I-is this okay?" Prompto had asked, tucking his fingers against yours. His cheeks are pink with a blush, and you think of brushing kisses over them. 

"It's fine," you say, squeezing his fingers with your own.

He hums the chocobo song as you wander down the streets in no particular direction, taking vaguely the long way back home. 

"Wanna—uh—come over?" Prompto's face is even redder than before, his fingers twitching nervously where you're holding his hand. It's cute, different from anyone else that's ever tried to get to know you. He's so happy to be around you that it makes you happier to be around yourself.

You laugh, nudging him on the shoulder. "Nah, I got a hot date with Iggy. We're gonna stay up _all_ night...studying ancient Lucian history."

Prompto laughs in return, shoving you back. "Fair, fair. How can I compete with Iggy's _dashing_ intellect? Does he make you scream out proper declensions in old Solheim as he drives you mad with ecstasy?"

" _Eugh,_ Prom!" 

You untangle your hands to try and grab him in a headlock and mess up his perfect locks, but he runs away cackling like a hyena.

You hadn't made it home that night. 

You hadn't even made it two streets after you'd parted ways with Prompto before you'd turned a corner and walked straight into Ardyn, who'd grabbed your arm to keep you from falling, and had never let go. 

"Do you _know,_ Noctis—" the backs of his knuckles caressing your cheek with something you only knew later was _ownership_ —"what the prophecy says of your fate?"

-

You wake up to darkness and a soft weight laid over you. A...blanket? It's decorated with bright yellow creatures that scamper across its surface in improbable poses, but something about the sight tugs at the corners of your mouth. It smells of the mousie, but you don't mind.

You draw it tighter around yourself, nuzzling your face into the softness, and fall back to sleep.

-

The next time you blink your eyes open, it's light again. You yawn, stretching yourself out, and shake the tightness from your muscles. You're—surprised? To still be in the mousie's home. To not have been dragged back to the Citadel with its white walls and the light that burns you. 

" _Stupid_ mousie," you mutter under your breath.

There's a bowl of something sitting on the table that smells of earthiness, spices that tickle at your nose. You pick it up with a curious chirp, wondering that it's still warm, though it must have been sitting there for some time. You touch your fingers to the black plate that'd been underneath it and snatch them back again, hissing. It's _hot._

The...soup? is warm and filling. You can't distinguish any individual tastes, everything melded together in the stewing, but the end result is rich and pleasing, even to you.

You drink it down hungrily, glaring at the bottom of the bowl when it's empty.

You set it back on the table and get up, wondering where the little mousie's hidden himself. 

-

There are photos everywhere, adorning the walls and tables of the... _apartment,_ haphazardly placed. Some of them are dusty, making you sneeze, some of them with fingerprint smears all over the frames. They're all of the mousie—and _you._

_Friendship,_ Carbuncle had said. 

You slide the word between your teeth, but you still don't know what it means.

You make your way deeper into the mousie's dwelling, pushing open doors. There's a...bathroom, a study, an empty bedroom. The furthest one must be the mousie's, with a surfeit of garish stickers decorating the door, a cacophony of colour. You sniff with distaste.

It opens at a touch, and you find the mousie curled in his own blankets, sleeping peacefully.

Sleeping with a _predator_ in its home, like it's not even aware of the danger. 

The thought makes you angry, and yesterday you would have stormed in to throw it out of its bed, make it _fear_ you, but your stomach is full with soup, your limbs still heavy with sleep. You...pause, at the threshold. Is this some kind of _human_ sensibility, you wonder. 

You creep in slowly, crouch down at the side of the bed to watch him sleep. _Prompto._

You lick at your fingers and reach out to smooth the hair from his face. 

He wakes some time later with a low mumble, a smile on his face when he sees you. "Hey, Noct," his voice thick and scratchy with sleep.

"Prompto."

He reaches out to touch the scar on your face, so careful, projecting his movements, that you don't flinch back. "I didn't tell anyone you're here," he promises. "You can stay as long as you want." He lays his fingers over yours, perched on the edge of the bed, and you think of the dream, walking down small side-streets and _laughing._ "I've missed you, Noct," he blurts out, the heaviness in his voice now from emotion, _Prompto_ choking back a sob—"gods, I've missed you _so_ much."

His other hand goes to his face, wiping at his eyes.

You turn your own hand over, so his fingers are resting against your palm. You close your hand over his like in the dream. 

" _Friend,_ " you say, and watch as his face lights up.

 

**IV.**

It's _Nyx_ that finds you, breaking down the door while you're sat on the floor with Prompto, trying to figure out _video games._ Pressing buttons on the device in your hands makes things happen on-screen, though not consistently, without any sort of reason. You're so focused on getting your character to kick Prompto's character in the head that you don't even notice the commotion until Prompto's hit pause on the screen to look behind him.

"Uh," Nyx says. 

The mousies with him seem equally confused, stood there with dumb little expressions on their faces. 

"Hey, Nyx!" Prompto calls out. "You're paying for my door!"

Nyx's face contorts, like it can't decide how to feel about the entire situation.

You start laughing, and then you can't stop, cackling madly at the sad little mousies standing squished against one another in the yawning doorway, at Prompto's indignant ire over his broken door, at Nyx's _face,_ stuck between several expressions in clear indecision.

"Noct?" Prompto shoves at your shoulder, and you shove him back, wrestling with him on the floor as Prompto yells—"It's not that funny, Noct!"

It _is,_ it's the funniest thing in all the world.

You set your teeth against his neck, gnawing gently, and then Prompto's laughing too, giggling at the ticklish sensation.

-

You reluctantly head back to the Citadel with Nyx, grumbling the whole way about busy little _mousies,_ Prompto following sheepishly in tow. "Sorry, your uh, majesty," he mumbles at Regis, who trades him a pained smile.

"No," Regis tells him, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. "You put Noctis first, and I'm grateful for that. There aren't many who would in recent times."

"Noct's my _friend,_ " Prompto says, slanting a gaze at you, like he needs your confirmation.

"Friends," you nod.

You shy away when Regis tries to hold you. Humans have too many complicated emotions, and you can only work through one at a time. You hide behind Prompto, the only one of them who hasn't _hurt_ you.

You touch your fingertips to his, and Prompto's hand curls around yours automatically.

 _Friend,_ you think, is perhaps the same as _pack._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unmerciful ( art companion piece)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525514) by [dreamingcicadas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingcicadas/pseuds/dreamingcicadas)




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